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City of blue tile.
Figure in Ceramics.
Where we reach out.
Grab for Porcelain.
But it's too fragile to hold.
And it shatters in our hands.
In time the seasons will seal these shards.
Into the slits that denote your wrists.
Death is the answer.
To calculations composed of motions that are the same.
And secret and different (secretly the same).
A missing alphabet with a message for us.
When people die.
They leave a piece of us with them.
And holes in clouds are minutes passing.
Rescind this line and several ties.
The skyline unfolds into explanation.
That sometimes words give up.
And silently walk off the edge the edge of the page.
And here the cry opens up and reveals the word inside.
The crack in the porcelain.
The silent line of sky-lit eyes show.
Death up there shine more brightly than lives down here.
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I sewed it up Stitched all these dead end streets
Into the sewn up seams of my heartstrings unwind(unwound)
Like a petal pulled from an open flower.
Surrounds by fields where children sign but don't make a sound and don't
Break it off
This searching for what we may never find
And that says it all.
I hope that we will make it through..
The heartbreak that comes with just living through one day
All the good times that past and all the friends we lose in a lifetime on our
way.
Here in this life we seem so lost.
On this side of brightness we don't know where to go.
I hope that we can make it
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We listened to the open sound your voice projected on the radio dial
Lie with me I said and lying's what she always did and always will.
All these thoughts keep leading back to him.
And no signs from Cinema.
No city skyline.
No paper scraps and no unfolding at five o' clock
Your voice skips as it always did and always will
All these thoughts keep leading back
It's the light from your sunless room
Scattered in pieces all around you.
Recession of these thoughtless forms
Reciting every line as a way of life and a way of death in time
We heard Ian Curtis kill himself again in your bed.
In these 24 hours we stretched into a room filled with "Heart and Soul."
This is the way.
Step inside and march in the procession of empty hearts.
Love has torn us apart.
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It's just the southern road that you leave by and open windows in your car.
It's the breathing of the city that says leave me behind.
Forget tomorrow side with the open road.
Pulled apart for you.
In the window unlocked and left open.
For the rising sun taking you back home.
If we never meet again it would be too soon.
I'm glad I ran from you and now my life's a mess.
And I'll have to admit that I have made a mistake.
And every path that I take has lead me right back to here.
And I never should have left.
It's just the second chance that I dreamt of.
When you took me into your lives.
But there's a pear we have to climb over.
so get a running start.
Sitting here.
Waiting a year.
Hoping for something to change your mind and in this time I'll see that this is
all we have.
Before I leave I'm opening that door in my house.
To face the ones I've left behind.
Portrait of a man who stayed.
His face is folded up and grayed.
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This sunlight cutting through the open fields.
Can't be communicated by radio waves.
And through this flashlight keyhole memory.
Receive a thousand signals and can't respond.
So keep your hands to yourself.
And relay the message to your friends that nothing's wrong.
Reverse reception on this lifeless satellite.
Push this button.
End the transmission.
So keep your hands to yourself
In this transit station reconnection to our lives.
In transit like my voice cutting through this line.
It's the same old song broadcasted on the radio.
Saying I'm not worth your time.
End the transmission.
This absence is making relations come undone it's breaking air waves I'm losing
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You told me on your birthday all the things that this place had done to you.
And in the streets you walk.
You hide your face because they don't believe that it's true.
They say it doesn't happen that often.
But it's happening right now.
I'm writing you this letter to let you know I'm not alright.
And in this city the streets are paved with hate
And you cry yourself to sleep tonight.
And say "no, there aren't enough love songs in the sky."
You counted down the days till you could say "Bye-bye, city, bye-bye"
You're walking down on Union
You see the roads and know they're apart of you.
They say it doesn't happen that often
But it's happening right now.
I'm writing you a second time.
To let you know nothing here has changed.
The streets are still paved with hate.
So you can cry yourself to sleep tonight.
Will you look back on this night
As the day that ruined your life.
Will you look back on these city streets and say,
"Oh, God, where are you?"
In these city streets I hide my face.
I turn away when you look at me
And every night when I try and sleep.
I feel your hands all over my body.
You streipped away the street signs and shot out all the stop lights.
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The angels sing of someone coming down
To wake us from a sleep thats broken
Deeply wont shut up again
Must be some sort of sign for us
That things are going to change
Its hard to dream
Well you'll try hard
In this half hearted minute
You sleep alone
Its hard to dream
If you're a ghost
Its only a matter of time
Before we fade out
The phone is ringing in my head again
I'm too scared to pick up
The fear that this is the call I've been waiting for
Could be some sort of sign for me
That its time for me to change
Its the turning clock
That happens every night
And if we dont stop soon
We will never wake up again
Computers lie
They keep us in our lives
If im paranoid
Its because they're watching us
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Mountain ranges
Mourning red bay at the bridges
Stab up at the coming blue horizon
Grey slides loosely off rooftops
Lands on the Incan desert ground and dies
A flock of little men touch down on the surface of the porchlight
Bronze fist soldiers return
To watch the twilight across the faces
Skylights ignite and explode
Scattering shards of april around the room
No one even lives here
We're too busy crashing our cars every morning at the same house
Paving the same roads
Unwilling to walk them
And even when we extend ourselves, its only to be included
In a world that's standing still
And so often we don't struggle to improve conditions
We struggle for the right to say "we improve conditions"
And so often we form communities
Only to use them as exclusionary devices
And we forget that somewhere man is beside himself with grief
And somewhere people are calling for teachers
And no one's answering
Somwhere a man stands, walks across the room, and breaks his nose on the door
And somewhere these people are keeping records
And writing a book
For now we can call it "The Book About the Basic Flaw
Or "The Book About the Letter "N"
Or "Any Title That a Book About a Man That No One Cares About Might Have"
And as we turn the pages we call out the sounds of nothing
The sounds of a vanishing alphabet
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